


Control

by imunbreakabledude



Series: Thirst-verse [2]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/F, Porn With Plot, Smut, Vampire Sex, Vampires, they're fugitives and they're tender, vampire!villanelle POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22738792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imunbreakabledude/pseuds/imunbreakabledude
Summary: Eve and Villanelle are on the run, ending up in an abandoned barn somewhere outside Limerick, Ireland. Eve is miserable, unaccustomed to the fugitive lifestyle, and it’s Villanelle's job to cheer her up somehow.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Series: Thirst-verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620313
Comments: 20
Kudos: 301





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to [titaniumbechloe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/titaniumbechloe%22) for beta reading!
> 
> Was debating when to post this. Probably should've waited longer, but then I thought, when better to post it than Valentine's Day! And then I got busy and missed it by a day. <3
> 
> P.S.: This is a follow up to [Thirst.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22167241) You can definitely read this as a smutty oneshot if you want, but if you're into plot, and a humorous/actiony vampire AU intrigues you, I recommend starting with Thirst to avoid spoilers.

This was never part of Villanelle’s plan, insofar as she ever had a plan. Her intention was to play with the Silver League for another week or two, maybe even a month, if she could keep them on the hook for that long, before cleaning house and moving onto another country with new sights and sounds and prey. 

She did not account for babysitting a human, but here she is, in rural Ireland, doing just that, and infuriatingly enough, she only has herself to blame.

A dim memory floats to the surface of her mind from the murky depths of her human life. When she was seven years old, she found a stray cat on the streets of Moscow which she pounced on and dragged home despite its violent protests in the form of pained yowls and wild swipes of its claws. Her mother sternly told her she could only keep it if she cared for it and trained it well.

She parted ways with the cat after only a few days. Taking care of such an ungrateful creature was a fool’s task, and Villanelle was no sucker. Though, the relief at parting ways seemed mutual as the cat hissed when it ran away into the night.

In most ways, Eve bears no resemblance to that cat, but Villanelle nonetheless feels a tug of frustration as she has to think about things she hasn’t considered in years, like: choosing modes of travel a human can handle. Finding human food for Eve to eat. Finding places Eve is “comfortable” sleeping with her soft human body. Villanelle is not accustomed to altering her plans for the needs of another, and sometimes it makes her want to scream and snap Eve’s neck and be done with it.

But most of the time? She’s glad to have the company. After so many years of traveling alone, it’s nice to have someone to talk to, although most of the talking Eve does is complaining.

“When can we stop running?” Eve asks with the same cadence as a child asking “Are we there yet?”

“When we have definitely lost them,” Villanelle fires back in the beleaguered tone of the parent who has answered that question twenty times already.

“We haven’t seen them in weeks,” Eve says. Villanelle elects not to dignify that comment with any response beyond a raised eyebrow and a withering look, which makes Eve puff out a snort of air and avert her gaze in defeat. “I’d like to know when I can sleep in my own bed again. Or any bed, for that matter.”

They’ve fallen into a routine of non-routine as they’ve run around the past few weeks, prioritizing constant unpredictable motion over any sense of destination. Travelling mainly by night, they drove around England for a while, stealing a new car every couple days, sleeping in the car or maybe in a motel if Eve got especially whiny. Yesterday, Villanelle decided it was time for a slightly bolder move and they hopped a nighttime flight over to Dublin. Now, they’re on a country road somewhere outside Limerick, driving past dozens of identical Irish farms.

“Pick your favorite,” Villanelle says, as they pass another pasture with a lone cow grazing in the early-morning darkness.

“I figure none are going to have five star accommodations, so let’s just go for the next one and go to bed.”

Obediently, Villanelle turns down the next dirt lane and pulls them onto a large property, with some low wire fences and no animals in sight. Eve waits in the car while Villanelle makes a quick lap and determines that based on the staleness of the scent trails, this farm isn’t in active use, and they’re unlikely to be discovered before the next night.

Villanelle assesses the small barn that will be their sleeping quarters – a few bales of hay in the corner, ground littered with straw, a ladder leading up to a small loft with more hay. Most importantly, the walls are solid with only a few small cracks to let in sunlight, which won’t be an issue if Villanelle is careful. She’s a daredevil sometimes, but recent experiences have put her off of taking chances with sunlight.

Villanelle’s burns are all but completely healed, thanks to her vampiric constitution and an increased blood intake over the past weeks. Even Eve’s human body is slowly recovering from the injuries she sustained from falling out the hotel window. 

The bite to her neck is healing, too, or at least Villanelle suspects it is, though Eve hasn’t removed the bandage for her to check on it. Every time Villanelle asks about it, or offers to change the bandage herself, Eve declines and changes the subject, perhaps out of some notion of privacy? It doesn’t seem to be out of fear, when Eve swats Villanelle’s hand away from the bandage, since her heartbeat doesn’t speed up especially. 

Villanelle finds it incredibly frustrating that Eve has never been afraid of her. She claims to be on occasion, but she lies. Villanelle prides herself on her ability to make people feel whatever way she wants them to feel. Fear ought to be the easiest of all; Vampires are _supposed_ to frighten humans. It’s the natural order. Eve’s stubborn bravery irks Villanelle… or is it naïve ignorance of the danger? Whatever it is, it pisses Villanelle off.

But at the same time, she’s glad that Eve feels comfortable around her. Because if Eve had been scared that night when Villanelle visited Eve’s house at dawn, or if she’d been scared in the hotel room, or in the underground tunnel, Villanelle would be a pile of dust right now instead of walking the Earth with Eve as her irksome, interesting companion.

Eve surveys the barn with considerably more disdain than Villanelle, but sighs, “It’s better than the car again,” and begins pushing some straw together into a sad pile to serve as a pillow, then curls up on the ground. 

Villanelle can’t help but smile at the sight; Eve looks like a lost little kitten, a baby barn cat, wishing she could live in the house instead, but at the same time taking a sort of pride in toughing it out, in being miserable. Villanelle lowers herself to the ground a respectable distance away, not bothering with the straw; she’s slept in far worse places before.

She drifts off for a few hours, because she can see faint light shining through the cracks in the barn walls when a rustling sound wakes her. Right on schedule.

Villanelle remains perfectly still, pretending to be asleep as she hears Eve standing up and slowly approaching her. It’s cute that Eve thinks she’s sneaky, when her footfalls are like gunshots, when her breaths are like a jet engine.

Although Villanelle doesn’t turn or open her eyes to look, she knows what Eve is doing, as she’s done it every night they’ve been on the run, without fail. She waits for Villanelle to fall asleep, then comes and stands over her with a stake in her hands, but of course, never does anything with it. 

After weeks of this routine, Villanelle has grown bored, so she decides that tonight it will be fun to catch Eve in the act. She waits for Eve to make another step, then twitches her head slightly, like she only now heard Eve’s motion. Her twitch is greeted with a sharp intake of breath, and she bites back a smile as she rises and looks to Eve, who has tucked the stake behind her back.

“Trouble sleeping?” she asks.

“Yes,” Eve replies, remaining stiff with both arms clutched behind her back. “The ground is a little uncomfortable.”

“Is it the ground?” Villanelle asks. “Or the large pointy wooden thing in your back?”

Eve avoids meeting Villanelle’s eyes as she brings the stake out in front of her. “Did I interrupt something?” Villanelle asks. “Want me to pretend to sleep again so you can go through with it?”

“I don’t want to,” Eve says quietly, sitting down cross-legged on the ground in front of Villanelle.

“Then what are you doing every night?”

Eve blushes, embarrassed to have her hesitation known. “You are the vampire. I’m the human,” she says, and Villanelle resists the urge to interject a quip about stating the obvious. Eve continues, “I’m only alive because you decided on a whim to take me with you. I’m not in control of my own life anymore. Maybe I’m not your thrall, but I still can’t exactly go against you.”

Villanelle furrows her brow. “Are you saying that you are unhappy?”

“Not unhappy, no…”

“You want to go home?”

Eve opens her mouth, pauses, searching for the right words. “I miss being in control of my life.”

Villanelle lights up. “You can be. Just tell me what you want.”

“Right, that’ll fix everything,” Eve says, rolling her eyes.

“I’m serious,” Villanelle insists. “I will be _your_ thrall. Tell me what to do.”

“Shut up.”

Villanelle makes a motion to zip her lips, then mimes throwing away the key, which elicits a rare laugh from Eve. She sits patiently awaiting her next order.

“Okay, you can talk again,” Eve says.

“What would you like me to talk about?”

“Stupid things,” Eve says. “Inconsequential things. Like the weather.”

“Reckon there’ll be rain today?” Villanelle says, adopting her best Irish accent. “I sure hope not, for it might upset me girl if she had to sleep on wet straw at that.”

“That’s not half bad.”

“You’re smilin’,” Villanelle notes.

“I don’t know why,” Eve says, trying to make a more serious face.

“Permission to try one more way to cheer you up?” Villanelle says, dropping the accent. Eve looks confused, but nods. Villanelle leans in toward Eve, slowly, but Eve flinches away, so she stops.

“Every time you do that, I think you’re going to bite me,” Eve says.

“Not this time,” Villanelle says, pressing her forehead to Eve’s, whispering in confidence. “It was hard enough to stop once. I don’t plan to try it again.”

Eve remains silent, but makes no motion to pull away. Villanelle can hear her heartbeat speed up – faster than normal, but not to fight-or-flight levels. 

“I never thanked you properly for that, did I?” Villanelle breathes.

“Not exactly, no.”

Villanelle takes Eve’s head in her hands, running a thumb along Eve’s velvet cheekbones. “Well. Thank you.”

Villanelle closes her eyes and leans in to press her lips softly against Eve’s. She brushes up against the rough remainder of a scab from Eve’s split lip, but Villanelle likes how it breaks up the soft expanse of Eve’s mouth. Eve welcomes the kiss for a moment, then shrinks away, so Villanelle slows, pulls back. “Was that okay?”

“It’s different than the first one,” Eve says.

“The first?”

“My lips aren’t numb…”

“Oh, that?” Villanelle realizes Eve is referring to back in the tunnel, when Villanelle had first tasted Eve’s blood. “That wasn’t a real kiss. This is a kiss…”

She takes Eve by the lips once again, this time more firmly, and Eve accepts her lips graciously, actively this time. She slips her hands through Eve’s hair, that fantastic hair, every time she thinks she’s through it there’s more and more, like an endless forest.

Villanelle hears Eve’s heart beat, hears the rush of blood in her veins, the blush in her cheeks and the pulse in her neck. Every bit of motion that shows she is full of blood, full of life. 

This will test Villanelle’s self-control like no other experience in her four years as a vampire has.

As Villanelle travels downward, letting her kisses traverse Eve’s neck, it’s difficult enough to ignore the veins that stand out through Eve’s skin like rivers of precious nectar, but she also has to contend with the lingering scent from the still-healing bite; even covered by the bandage, it tantalizingly calls out to Villanelle, making all of her instincts scream: _sink your teeth into her once more, finish what you started._

But Villanelle is no slave to her instincts. She is only a slave to Eve, tonight.

And Eve, oh Eve, is becoming a more active master, her hands reaching out to clutch Villanelle, demanding more, and Villanelle is happy to oblige. Villanelle pulls off her shirt in one fluid motion, tossing it away, and helps Eve with her sweater. 

Eve’s hands, hot to the touch, land on Villanelle’s bare shoulders, pulling her down towards the ground, on top of Eve, leaving Villanelle’s flesh warm even after they pull away.

As Villanelle explores Eve’s upper body, leaving a trail of kisses down her torso, has to keep reminding herself that humans are fragile. Hold back, don’t use your full strength, be careful how closely you clutch her, how fiercely you hold her, for she is delicate. She is a precious object that must be protected.

 _Gently, gently,_ she reminds herself as she unbuttons Eve’s bottoms and tugs them down. _Softly, softly_ , she thinks as her fingers creep underneath the waistband of Eve’s underwear to the warmest part of her. _Careful, careful,_ she remembers as she sneaks her index finger inside of Eve.

Eve gasps and grabs at Villanelle’s shoulder, fingertips digging at Villanelle’s skin.

“Did I hurt you?” Villanelle’s breath hitches at the thought.

“It’s just… very cold.” Eve breathes. “But it’s nice.”

Of course, as hot as Eve feels on Villanelle’s hand, that is as icy as Villanelle must feel to her human skin. And Eve is _blazing._

Villanelle starts slowly with just her index finger, moving in and out, and once it seems like Eve is used to that, slides in another finger. She builds a moderate but pulsing rhythm, small movements, but deep, driven from the elbow.

Villanelle has heard (and indeed, caused) all flavors of human moans before, and Eve is making the best kind at the moment: the sound of pure pleasure. Villanelle bites her lip to keep from letting out a sound of her own. But no, this is Eve’s moment. Let it be about her.

As she slides in, out, she can’t help but think ahead to the future, once she’s taught Eve the tricks, when their positions will be reversed, and Eve will be the one eliciting moans from Villanelle. Of course, Eve will be able to let loose all of her power without a care, because compared to Eve, Villanelle is extremely durable.

Villanelle looks forward to that day, but for now, she is in service of Eve. For Eve had given the most intimate and precious part of herself to Villanelle – her lifeblood – and though Villanelle did not ask permission back then, she knows that if she had, Eve would have given it, and more. 

And in the aftermath, it was adorable how surprised Eve had been to wake up, alive. The human had already made her peace with her life being sucked away so that Villanelle might go on. 

Now, Villanelle can repay Eve for her self-sacrifice, and she takes that responsibility very seriously. 

By now, Villanelle’s hand has absorbed enough of Eve’s body heat to feel like it is almost a part of Eve. Indeed, Eve is growing a bit too comfortable and complacent, so Villanelle switches it up, substituting her face for where her fingers had just been. A few kisses along the inside of Eve’s thigh to prepare herself for what’s to come – one, two, three, inching closer and closer. 

Villanelle can smell Eve’s reaction to the change – the sudden rush of hormones in Eve’s bloodstream betray how overwhelmed with pleasure she is, even if her face is placid, reserved.

But this moment isn’t only for Eve’s sake; it’s selfish on Villanelle’s part, too. As Villanelle bends down to taste Eve’s wetness, her tongue darting hungrily in and out, she thinks that nothing on Earth could be more delicious… except, of course, Eve’s blood. But this is a satisfactory substitute for now.

Villanelle knows she’s done her job when Eve’s entire body seizes up and the scent of oxytocin fills her bloodstream. One of the perks of being a vampire; she never has to worry about her partners faking it, not that they would ever find it necessary, for Villanelle is very, very good at what she does.

Villanelle lies down on the ground, turning on her side to look at Eve. “Do you feel in control now?”

Eve turns to look back at Villanelle, her eyes huge, deep, filled with some well of meaning Villanelle can’t quite grasp. She stares into Villanelle’s eyes for what feels like hours, then says, “Why didn’t you turn me?”

“I thought I already answered that.”

“No, you dodged the question. Like a coward.”

“That’s rude. I saved your life.”

“Yeah, yeah. I saved yours, too. Don’t get all high and mighty about it.”

When Eve gets like this, audacious enough to tell off a vampire with no regard for the power differential, no deference to the immortal creature that just made love to her, Villanelle knows she’s done her job well. She reaches out to pick a piece of straw from Eve’s hair. “I like you better this way.”

“But are you just playing with me?” Eve props herself up on an elbow. “Are you just delaying the inevitable, until you eat me?”

“No. You mean more to me than that.”

“Then why _not_ turn me?” Eve says, growing agitated. “My survivability would be a hell of a lot better if I was like you. You wouldn’t be slowed down by having to protect me, and the Silver League would have a really hard time taking down two vampires working together. We’d be a lot safer.”

“It’s complicated,” Villanelle sighs.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Villanelle looks at the ground, playing with pieces of straw. She had hoped to avoid this conversation, but she should’ve known Eve would drive her to it, like a dog after a bone.

“Tell me. I’m ordering you to tell me.”

“I don’t know how, okay?”

Eve stops short, thrown off balance. “I thought…”

“I don’t remember being turned at all,” Villanelle says. “I woke up, and I had changed. I do not know how it is done, and I don’t want to kill you by doing it wrong.”

“Oh,” is all Eve has to say to that. She lies back down on the ground, and Villanelle scoots closer, putting an arm around Eve. The barn floor is beginning to feel extremely comfortable to Villanelle, at least, and she’s starting to drift off again, when Eve mutters, “How do we find out?”

Villanelle throws her face into Eve’s hair. “You are relentless, you know that?”

“I’ve been told that once or twice.”

“Sleep now,” Villanelle says, and she can feel the tiny vibration, the seed of a protest building in Eve’s chest, but it stops – apparently Eve has had her fill of control for now. Eve adjusts her position, fitting her body into the contours of Villanelle’s body, and they fall into peaceful slumber as the sun rises.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this interlude.
> 
> Second arc of the Thirst-verse coming Soon™️. 
> 
> As always you can find me on [tumblr](https://imunbreakabledude.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/not_breakable). Please save me from my villaneve obsession.


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